Lovely Lies
by Kazuman21
Summary: What happens when Rorschach pries for the reason Daniel's been acting so strange lately?


It was a disgustingly effortless task to know he was lying. Daniel's unscathed façade was like a wall of thin paper: the second you turn on the lights you could glimpse at the quivering shadows of the truth hiding and cowering like battered children behind the translucent barrier; suffocating and swelling behind his face's curtain. This had become a common occurrence in the past few weeks, the excuses and fabrications crushing him in waves. Usually Rorschach ignored the searing cuts to their fraying thread of trust; let his secrets fester and boil up behind that feeble wall; he knew the paper would sag and rip and his heart's black inventions would be exposed. Rorschach acknowledged the fact that they were two separate men, two individual entities with their own morals and views. The blotted man had no sway in either Daniel or Nite Owl's life, even if the owl had more than his fair share of sway in his. Once the sun's greeting began to trickle across their nightly work, the men would part ways. Their awkward sense of camaraderie did not give way to deep conversations or invitations to one another's house. However, the wound still stung. Rorschach's soul seethed with bereavement when he stared into those brown orbs and noticed they weren't staring back at him. His mind had grown sick and bitter with the taller man's apathy towards him, but he'd remained firm on his newfound dictum, remained patient. Today, however, Rorschach wasn't in a patient mood.

The deafening pounding of the rain had subsided a while back abandoning the city muggy and slick. Cabs and cars splashed the stagnant street water onto pedestrians; the drivers most likely smug and careless for the humanity around them. The tall gaunt street lamps stared at the city solemnly, sending their rays of dim illumination down, glittering across the wet pavement like gems in the muck. The two men were stationed atop a dilapidated apartment complex. A miserable building where children once played and families lived until the world got it's draining claws around them, choking the life out of their veins until all that was left was the withered, lifeless, run down building; the windows boarded shut, vermin scurrying between the walls, and scum conducting their crooked business. Rorschach took a step forward, the moist gravel made a soppy crunching noise that reminded him of bones shattering beneath flesh. A chill shivered its way up his spine.

Daniel had been distant lately to say the least. His mind was too busy swirling in a stew of emotions to even flash Rorschach his signature smirk. He'd witnessed the lack of sleep engraved into his partner's face; dark circles under his eyes accompanied by a weary frown. Daniel's lack of interest in the real world translated to gaps in their efficiency. The brunet had started using chopped sentences, brief answers that were infinitely vague; he sometimes didn't use words at all just simple grunts and grumbles. In Rorschach's eyes, Daniel was turning into him. That's when he became positive that whatever little secret he kept behind that paper wall was becoming a detriment. The blotted man's silent, strong, brutish method worked for him alone. Daniel was a different kind of man. This issue that Daniel stowed away in his mind was affecting the way the two men communicated, and with the heroes' communication system already frail and weak, Rorschach knew they couldn't withstand another blow.

"Got a confession Daniel?" Rorschach questioned in a low gravely tone.

Daniel kept his back turned to the shorter man acting as if he had never uttered a word. Instantly, Rorschach felt the emotional stab deep in the pit of his being. Perhaps this is how Daniel felt after all those rejected questions, all the brisk exists into the consuming void of the darkness. The masked man couldn't change who he was, but he would make sure Daniel didn't become the same.

Rorschach examined his partner's posture, Daniel's brown booted foot rested on the ledge of the building, his back hunched over slightly as he observed his domain. The honking, chattering, and restless moans of the city drifted up form the bustling streets like a toxic gas; it's scraggily claws caressing and tempting him into its welcoming filth. Daniel's expression contorted into a grimace as he looked down on more than enough to disapprove of. The darkness of the night sculpted his face into jagged pieces of glass juxtapose to the creeping glow of the streets in an eerie fashion that reminded Rorschach of the comic book villains he had read about as a child. The taller man's gaze was intense as he stared down on the occupants of the city; the whores, corrupt businessmen, addicts, rapists, the medley of scum that left an acrid taste in your mouth. Daniel's cape slowly furled and undulated in the muggy gusts of wind. At that moment Daniel WAS Nite Owl, not just a man donning a costume. He was steel and his eyes fire. Daniel didn't appear to be the usual weak willed, chatty man that Rorschach knew so well.

Rorschach recalled the Roche Case in sporadic bursts. He vividly heard the slimy tearing sound of the child's flesh being ripped off the bones by the two German sheppards; their muzzles covered in crimson ooze and stringy bits of skin pinned between gleaming sharp fangs. For a moment, Rorschach was there standing outside the dirty glass window, smelling the copper in the air swirling with the scent of decay that made his stomach turn. That innocent girl who had never done a single mischievous act had been dismembered and fed to beasts. She had been spared no mercy, her blood left to stain the blade and cutting board. That day had changed him. He had abandoned the weak Walter Kovacs in all but body and became Rorschach. Had Daniel hit his "Roche Case"?

"It's nothing," Nite Owl murmured against the low howl of the wind. He removed his foot from the ledge and backed away slowly, almost cautiously, as if he had half the mind to jump over the edge.

"You're lying. Obvious," Rorschach retorted walking up to Daniel, the gravel on the roof crunching under his footsteps. The taller man didn't acknowledge Rorschach's sluggish approach as if he were only a silent phantom hovering towards him. Daniel was peering off into the distance when the shorter man placed a purple gloved hand on his shoulder. It wasn't Rorschach's preferred type of contact, but a caring hand on the back was what Daniel frequently did during a tense or emotional moment. Perhaps he'd come back to reality with a simple gesture.

Unexpectedly, Daniel's head whipped around at the simple attention. Rorschach had expected a fist to come into contact with his nose by the pure ferocity of the movement, but he recalled that Daniel had never been cross with him, not even if he had every right to (the blotted man could admit to being difficult from time to time). However, instead of Daniel's clenched fist, Rorschach was met with the searing image of his partner, his best friend, with furrowed brows and tears streaming down to his trembling bottom lip. Daniel glared at Rorschach with eyes that were blood shot and glazed over with a sheen of tears. The blotted man took a step backwards, his hand sliding off of his partner. He was more fearful of the sobbing man before him than a million men with weapons. He could kill a man with his fist, but he had never learned how to comfort one. It was only by pure luck that Daniel filled the void of silence first.

"Rorschach," he sobbed in a thick voice, "Why me? Why did this have to happen to me? It was fucking perfect until I had to go and fuck it up! I fell in love with the one person I shouldn't. God, I'm so sorry!"

Rorschach contemplated his partner's choked words. He speculated that Nite Owl was speaking of the succubus, Silk Specter; a lustrous woman clad in a yellow and black costume that left little to the imagination. Any man would find it a facile task to become acquainted with the supple curves of her body. She was a common whore in Rorschach's opinion. However, despite the blotted man's cautionary insults towards the woman, Daniel swooned over her like a teenage boy. The animalistic lust that filled the brown pools of his eyes made it obvious. Daniel was naïve. If the witch beckoned to him, he would follow aimlessly without caution or mind. All of the dramatic were because he'd fallen in LOVE with the whore. Growling inwardly, Rorschach glared at the sputtering man through his undulating mask. His partner's bereaved state was ridiculous and unnecessary. A whore was not something a man cried over and loved. A whore was something you used and abandoned; a disgusting creature like his mother. His stomach became squeamish as he recalled the numerous amounts of men entering and exiting the confines of his mother's room, the ostentatiously fake moans gurgling out of her fat neck and rumbling through the thin walls, the foul rolls of green paper that rested on his mother's nightstand after a 'client' left. Daniel would not be one of those men. He would not subject himself to the temptress's evil embrace. Rorschach wouldn't allow him. "Doesn't deserve your love," he said scolding Daniel, yet doing his best to console him simultaneously.

Daniel's body slowly ceased to rack with sobs at Rorschach's words. For a moment, he'd assumed his words had stuck to some strand of sanity in his partner's mind, but as Daniel straitened his neck and stared at Rorschach as if he'd been slapped, he knew nothing of the sort had happened. Daniel gazed at Rorschach with eyes wider than they should have for someone who'd just been sobbing through clenched eye lids. "Doesn't? Who are you talking about Rorschach?!" he cried incredulously.

Rorschach shoved his hands into the grimy pockets of his trench coat at the confrontational question. Rorschach's bluntness was obviously unappreciated. A softer vocabulary would be more appropriate for the situation, but Rorschach was honest to a fault. He wanted to growl, yell at Daniel that Silk Specter had no right to his heart; that she was conniving; that she would manipulate him for her own good. The small hero clenched his fists tightly entertaining the thought of beating his definition of sense into his colleague. However, he wouldn't… couldn't. Daniel was his companion through thick and thin, the only person Rorschach would dare to call his friend. Therefore he unclenched his fists, stretching the anger from his fingers, and gazed at the shattered man before him. First exhaling the tension from his body, Rorschach answered him, "Silk Specter. I know Daniel. Known for a long time."

Rorschach watched as Daniel's facial expression transformed. At first his eyebrows raised in pure befuddlement, jaw dropping slightly, pouty lips lax on his face, then, for some strange reason, a smile. Daniel's expression brightened, but his eyes still held a glimmer of insanity. Then came the laughter bursting out from his lungs like thunder. Taking a step back warily, the masked man examined his partner curiously. "Daniel?" he questioned with unease lacing his tone, but the owl kept laughing until the chortle became a thick choking sound as he ran out of oxygen. "I thought you were a detective!" he hooted slapping his right knee. Rorschach grimaced as Daniel's incessant laughter resumed where it had left off. His partner had lost his mind.

Rorschach considered exiting the scene that seemed to be heading towards Wonderland, but he found himself trapped inside the twisted fairytale when strong hands gripped him by the sides of his mask. Within seconds Daniel's forehead was pressed against Rorschach's, the owl's hot breath sticking to the animated material. Rorschach stared Daniel square in the eyes through the morphing fabric, but, of course, the brunet couldn't see him back. Nite Owl's expression was one Rorschach recognized as elation, but there was a sense of insecurity and weariness in the lines of his smile. The small vigilante was so enthralled by the contours of Daniel's coutenance, that the fact he was still face to face (and perhaps closer than just that) was an unpleasant surprise. The shorter man attempted to escape his partner's grasp by craning and twisting his neck to the side, but it held firm. "You can be so stupid sometimes," Daniel cooed; his face so close that Rorschach felt the vibrations of the man's words on his lips. A shiver went down the vigilante's spine and settled in the pit of his stomach, the electricity stimulating his body like he'd never felt before. "So close," Rorschach murmured in his mind weakly. He could smell Daniel's aftershave wafting from his tanned skin and into his nostrils. The smell enticed the vigilante; made his mouth water. Brief images of his tongue swiping against the shell of Daniel's ear, of licking the small droplet of sweat that had collected on his furrowed brow, of the skin beneath the suit… Rorschach shattered his thoughts and mentally shook himself back into reality. His train of thought disgusted him. He was not some filthy animal who mewled and crooned into his partner's heated skin!

"Daniel," he growled threateningly, but his voice cracked nervously deceiving his menacing front.

The tall brunet's only response was silence, eyes half lidded with an expression the petite man couldn't place, his heavy breath warming Rorschach's mask, lips twitching enticingly. His eyes traced the lines of Daniel's face and, once again, the small man found himself becoming lost. This reason alone fueled Rorschach's panicked need for escape. Squirming slightly, the masked red head attempted to break his captor's embrace. Suddenly, Rorschach froze in place as he sensed Daniel's large calloused hand snake down his back to ultimately find its destination cupping the wiry man's ass. "I was talking about you," Daniel explained with a shaky voice between shallow breaths, his neck strained with stress.

Rorschach gawked beneath the undulating mask in utter bemusement. The electricity in his stomach swelled and surged inside of him, something that disgusted yet enticed him simultaneously, cherished and shunned; a sensation he had to resist curling inward to encase it inside of his body's cage. No matter how entranced he was with this emotion that had risen within him, he still feared the implications. These mutual feelings would develop into something Rorschach couldn't indulge in. He wasn't allowed these domestic comforts. The sole word he managed to choke out was the name of his partner as he quivered, caged inside Daniel's grasp. "D-Daniel," he grunted weakly in an unconvincing act of indignance as Nite Owl's lips became present on his own. The lush flesh of the taunt man played with thin chapped ones through the dank fabric. Thoughts rushed through Rorschach's mind causing him to reel at the overload; adrenaline pulsing angrily though his veins. He fought the desire to beat Nite Owl to a bloody pulp; to teach him to never be too close. His bottom lip trembled under the soft ministrations of his partner, but the gentle actions did nothing to soothe the growing knot in his stomach. He contemplated running away and never seeing the man who made his bottom lip quiver and gut stir ever again, but he was transfixed by the unreciprocated attention from Daniel; the brunet nipped at the fabric occasionally taking Rorschach's rosy flesh with it, licked slowly at the skin beneath the material as if there was no boundary. However, he remained still and wary, too many defenses to allow himself the pleasure of kissing the man he knew he wanted to indulge in. It wasn't until the small man felt his partner's erect groin grind into his own that he lost himself within the waves of physical arousal. He'd never felt such a sensation before; the coarse purple fabric of his pants rubbing against his member erotically. As if Daniel had pressed a certain button, Rorschach muttered Daniel's name helplessly against his partner's mouth. He was breathless as Daniel continued to grind his crotch against Rorschach's, a motion with no grace or dignity, but served it purpose. Crooking his thin fingers beneath the hem of his mask, Rorschach pried the fabric up to the bridge of his nose. He needed more contact than the mask allowed. Daniel stared down and the kiss swollen flesh then licked his own. This is a meal he wouldn't regret. Diving back in, Daniel resumed his feast on Rorschach's mouth, but now the rosy flesh melted together, warm and sensuous, rough and primal, all the feelings he imagined and more. Ravishing the pert lips, he relished the taste of sugar that seemed to stick to every inch of the smaller man's mouth and the friction that struck his erection as he grinded himself against Rorschach's own. This was what he'd anticipated throughout the months he'd become enthralled with the wiry vigilante. Having never planned such a successful confession, Daniel felt blessed that he had Rorschach writhing and pressed against him, that was, until Rorschach pushed the taller man off of him, his strength and reason suddenly regained. Stumbling backwards, Nite Owl gazed at Rorschach quizzically, searching for the answers to his unpredicted rejection.

"Have to leave," Rorschach sputtered nervously scouring the roof top for a speedy departure.

Daniel took an abrupt step forward. He couldn't believe his ears: Rorschach planned on leaving after such a blatant physical admission to their new found relationship?! "No! You can't just leave! You felt something too! Don't run away from this Rorschach!" Daniel roared for fear of rejection. Instantly, Rorschach froze in place at his partner's words. Daniel was right. He couldn't deny that he'd reciprocated those previous emotions. Breathing heavily with the residual passion from earlier, Rorschach realized he'd never felt that way towards another human being before. Frightened, no, _terrified_, Rorschach pivoted on the ball of his foot and began to walk towards the edge of the rooftop. This was his last claim to sanity; the knowledge of when a quick exit was necessary.

"Rorschach! Don't go!" Daniel howled reaching out for a body he couldn't ascertain. He could feel the sounds of Rorschach's foot steps pull at his heart strings, his eyes once again welling up with tears.

"Daniel," Rorschach began calmly, grabbing his hysterical partner's attention while also efficiently hiding the nervousness that racked his body, "I'll see you tomorrow."

With those parting words, Rorschach jumped off the side of the building in a uncharacteristically graceful manner, trench coat flaps flying behind him. Daniel's eyes widened and he rushed to the edge of the rooftop and dropped to his knees, his gloved fingers gripping the crumbling ledge. Leaning over the side, Daniel peered down into the dim illumination of the grimy city alley to realize that Rorschach had already made his escape. Nite Owl's face was slowly overtaken by an uncontrollable smile. He'd known Rorschach for years now and he understood when the small masked man said things that held greater implications. Rorschach wasn't running from Daniel, only prolonging the wait until he'd have his prize. Lolling backwards, Daniel allowed himself to collapse happily onto the wet gravel. Prolonging is better than nothing at all, he mused as he stared at the star littered sky.


End file.
